


Rattled Keys and An Unexpected Guest

by BlackIris



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, First Kiss, Music, Music feels, Pre-Bucky / Darcy, Sass, booze, friends to ???, half crack half ?, mentions of Tony - Freeform, mentions of steve - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackIris/pseuds/BlackIris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy's had a day. Like a helluva day. All she wants is to be alone, at home, and have a drink..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rattled Keys and An Unexpected Guest

**Author's Note:**

> Again; un-beta'd so I apologize for (any and) all mistakes. 
> 
> 10 additional points to anyone who picks up on my references; they occur more rapidly then I know what to do with sometimes.

She rattled her keys uncharacteristically loudly as she stomped up the stairs to her apartment. 

Today had been a long ass day. Work had been fine, realistically, but between the normal hustle and bustle of her typical day at the lab, life had managed to add a few unsightly events to her already long day. 

Coffee spilled on her new cream pumps, which caused her to mentally castrating herself on her decision to deviate from her typical black shoes. She tore her stockings, well thigh highs really, on the subway. She’d been trying to appear classier lately and part of her attempt to do so was to no longer go bare legged while wearing skirts. She should at least try to be a lady to counter when her tongue got away from her. 

These things of course were minor in comparison to the events of the destruction of the copier that ultimately ruined her ‘can do’ attitude that she was striving to maintain throughout the day. What she thought had been a paper jam with a simple tug and pull to alleviate the matter ended with her pulling a Tony and had half of the machine dismantled and scattered throughout the office. Of course, to make matters worse while in the midst of fixing the machine, her ever clingy mother called and started on her now weekly drill of questions that affronted her single status and when, not if, but when was she planning on settling down and getting serious with her life. 

The ink smudges that covered her arms and skirt were topped off with a small smudge on her forehead. She could care less as she was almost home. Today was not her day and it was beyond time for a drink and long hot shower. 

“Hmmpft.” Followed with incomprehensible babble came from her as she fought her front door’s lock. Today it stuck more than normal and she was in no mood for it. 

Finally through the door, with another disgruntled moan toward the door, she threw her keys in a bowl and slammed the door shut with her foot before locking the dead bolt on the door. 

“Home.” She mumbled leaning on the door and closing her eyes. Off came the newly ruined shoes. “And now for the booze and jazzy music.” 

On her way to the kitchen she pulled her blouse off and threw it on the couch. Once in the kitchen she shimmied out of what was left of her stockings and threw them directly in the trash. “Adios you bastards.” 

Turning the light on over her stove she reached for her favorite glass and all the fixings for a greatly deserved drink. Remembering her stained skirt, she removed it and to attempt to remove the offending smudges in the kitchen sink, seemingly forgetting her drink in her ministrations. 

“Oh screw this.” She said, leaving the skirt in the sink for a later time when her nerves where calmed.

She took her ipod from her bag. Remembering it died on the subway ride into work, she grunted again. Today really wasn’t her day. At least she managed to be wearing matching black lace bra and panties, she thought to herself as she moved to her laptop on the kitchen counter. 

“Hmm.. something good, something good..” She mumbled to herself as she surfed through her hoards of music. She clicked on Martin Garrix’s Animals to start. Mainly to kill the silence that she now found unbearably irritating. She needed, if only for a moment, to drown out her thoughts. She skipped to her favorite part of the song, but it still didn’t do it for her. “Next...Next!....Next!!” Obviously shuffle is not working for her today as a string of her usual favorites were not creating the soothing atmosphere she desired. She then settled on a play list, one she rarely lets anyone know she has. It’s of older music. “Frozen Bro’s-Esce” is what she named it. “Esce” as it wasn’t strictly 30’s and 40’s but also 50’s music. In all honestly, she absolutely adores it. Always had. Even before she knew the two men that had gone through so much. As the music starts to drift from her speakers, she starts to relax a little and moves to resume making her drink.

“See the pyramids along the Nile  
Watch the sun rise on a tropic isle  
But just remember, darling, all the while  
You belong to me”

She starts to sing along with the beginning of the second verse and walks to the bathroom, drink in hand when something didn’t seem just right. Something tall and dark caught her eye. So she walks backwards, slowly, into the living room. Hoping beyond hope that if she moves slow enough the funny feeling is really just her frayed nerves sprinkled with newly added spirits and not anything more. She stops and turns, eyeing the living room. 

“There it is. The other shoe dropping for my crap-tastic day.” She says. “What are you doing here Ice Man?” Pointing with her drink.

Bucky, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, smirks and looks her over slowly, admiring her bravado and curves. 

“Well.. You said to stop by if I was having a bad day or ‘whatever’ and I figured I’d take you up on it for once.” He said, still staring. “And evidently I chose the right night, doll.”

She rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her drink. Ignoring that she was in her skivvies would be easier once the drink was gone. She was grateful she had only barely started singing along to the music and had not started fully dancing like she usually would have. 

“So you decided to break in? I know they had phones back in your day, you could have called first, you know.” 

“Yeah, but then I woulda missed out on the show.” He said tilting his head and quirking an eyebrow. “Besides, needed to be somewhere.. different..Away from Mother Steve..” He paused for a beat. “Had I known you strip once you get home, woulda made a point of comin’ here sooner.” He ended with a wink. 

“Well, today’s not my day either, Buck-o. Wanna talk or drink about it? Evidently, I’m out.” She said as she raised her empty glass as evidence. She moved back to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of vodka and two short cobalt glasses that she set on the coffee table. 

“Sit. Pour. Spill.” She commanded as she walked to her bedroom in search of something to cover up with. And what could he do but follow orders. 

\-------  
He’s eight shots in to her four.

After a comfortable silence filled only with pouring liquid, clicks of glasses and exacerbated sighs turning to calm breaths, he picks up her blouse from the seat next to him, “Looks as though you had a day too, doll.” He comments, not really handing it back to her.

“You don’t know the half of it…” She scoffs and grabs the blouse from his hand. “Coulda been worse I suppose.” Darcy swirled her fifth drink before throwing it back. “Coulda been wandering around here naked before I realized your sorry ass was here.” She snorted at the truth of it. 

“Seein’ you, and your curves, was the highlight of my day. That can’t be the worst part of your day.” Stalling, always stalling this one. 

“You’re not getting away with it that easily, mister.” Her almost slur was an art form. “Besides, I’m covered now!” Waving a hand at her tank top, yoga pants and vintage style silk robe. Looking down at the robe while hearing the next song come on, another of Ella Fitzgerald’s, she wondered if she was the 'one out of time.' 

He simply responded with a smirk as he poured another round.

\-------

Bucky’s at fifteen. Darcy’s at nine, well eight and a half.

“You gotta stop stalling Buck-Buck.”

“You gotta stop pestering, doll.”

“Hey, I’m not the one that admitted I was having a bad day.”

“You didn’t have to, doll. You attacked the door and threw your clothes all over the place. Not that I’m complainin’ about the last bit.”

“Well, I’m sure the door was in a more proper working order ‘till someone decided it’d be easier to fuck with my lock than drop a text or call.” She accused, raising an eyebrow. “But you did come over here ‘cuz of a bad day, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, my ass. You never come over here unless I drag you over.” She countered. 

Chuckling and downing another glass, “I like you and your ass.” He mumbles.

\-------

Bucky: Eighteen.

Darcy: Nine.

She’s sprawled from her side of the couch to most of his, again, not that he’s complaining. Her legs are slung over his and she traces the plates that make up his left arm; both of which he finds oddly grounding. She’s just the distraction he needed. She’s smart and funny and doesn’t treat him like he’s a broken mess that needs constant protecting. When he first got there she was one of the first to call him on his shit and make fun of him when everyone else had kept quiet. And she’s got the body to match the mouth she has. Both of which get him going, but he keeps that on lock down, never knowing, regardless of his training, if she could ever want more of him. More of them. 

That is until today. Tonight really. He’s had a terrible day and needed a boost after another successful mission gone dark that sparked flash backs and memories he thought he’d reconciled. His therapist helps, but only so much. Her. She helps more. Even if he’s not the one talking. Ok, especially when he’s not the one talking. He loves that she rambles at times, like she is now. Loves? Really? Yeah. He does. He loves her. 

\-------

Bucky: Twenty three. 

Darcy: Ten.

“I know you’re all..” waves hands..”Super soldiery and all, but shouldn’t you like, you know, slow down, or not drink All the Vodka?” 

“’ur cute when you worry, doll.”

“Pshh, you woulda loved me in high school then. College too. Hey, did you even go to high school? I was looking at my great grandfather death certificate forever ago and he stopped going to school after the eighth grade. Is that..was that common?..”

And there she goes again, rambling away when anyone else would have kept their mouths shut or said something beyond safe instead. 

“..Oh..I..uh..Sorry..Prolly don’t wanna talk about that..or maybe don’t remember?” The vodka, right. She stopping drink awhile ago. Afraid to truly and fully let her guard down and knew it would only break that barrier down all the faster if she keep downing drinks. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. The problem, if you like to call it that, was that she liked him. Or maybe more than liked. But she tried not to let her mind wander down the path of ‘how much exactly do I like the formerly brainwashed assassin turned good-guy, when he probably only sees me as a friend like he does Rogers.’ 

“Don’t mind you asking, doll face.” He’s talking again, breaking her derailed train of thought. “You really wanna know about the time or just curious about me?” giving her another sideways glance with a smirk as he fills the small cobalt glasses. 

“You. Well..both, both is good” she stammers, smiling wide in attempts to hide her blush and previous thoughts from her face, “you know that’s fro-“

Her reveal is cut short by his reveal. His lips brushing hers, as his real hand comes up and cups her face in earnest. Her lips aren’t moving, she’s frozen, but it’s a good frozen. Her surprise is overwhelming her, making her unable to move. Her eyebrows are rocketed towards her hair line but she manages to at least slam her eyes shut. A grin slowly forms on her lips. As he begins to doubt himself in her stillness and draw back from the mistake of this kiss, and soon after her apartment, she grabs the collar of his shirt and draws him in closer for a proper kiss. 

Now it’s his time to smile slightly as her lips find his again. Her hands fisting in his shirt relax and move to his neck and the base of his head as her lips start to move against his. His fingers become tangled in her hair. His metal hand now resting around her waist, absently tracing the edge of where her top has risen exposing warm skin, the weight of it slowly registers and brings her from her dream state. 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, yourself doll.” He moves so their foreheads are just touching, his fingers in her hair, thumb rubbing over her cheek. 

“Gotta say, didn’t think you had it in you. Thought maybe you went all Steve on me and couldn’t see me as anything more than a comrade.” She said, grin going a little goofy. 

“Maybe it just took me a while to finally act on it.” He shrugged, before bringing his lips to hers again.

**Author's Note:**

> My "Road to El Dorado" reference is dedicated to my dear friend and fellow trouble maker; KB-Bear.


End file.
